Like A Glove
by EmmaLizzie
Summary: ITV Whiechapel - SLASH - Clothes may make a man, but Chandler firmly believes that sometimes less clothing is better, especially when concerning Emerson


**Title:** Like a glove

**Author:** Claddagh

**Pairing:** Chandler/Kent

**Rating:** NC-17

**Disclaimer:** Whitechapel belongs to ITV. Not to little old me.

**Length:** over 2500 words

**Summary:** Clothes may make a man, but sometimes Chandler thinks there should be less clothing, especially on Emerson.

* * *

"Okay everyone, Let's call it a day. Go home."

Everyone in the team looked up at their boss with a mixture of surprise and confusion on their faces. They all exchanged glances for a few seconds, not sure which one of them was going to speak first, it was Riley in the end.

"Sir, it's only four o'clock. We've got another hour to go yet."

Chandler gave an amused smile, surveying his team.

"True, but you have all been working very hard today and I think you all deserve to go home a little early."

The confused frowns didn't disappear from any of the detectives faces, but slowly, as if expecting to be rebuked, they slowly, one by one rose from their desks and began tidying away.

"What brought this on sir? Been visited by the ghost of overtimes past?" Mansell laughed, pulling his coat on. The other detectives smiled and looked to their DI. Joe gave a slight shake of his head.

"I'm afraid not Mansell, I just want you all fresh and well rested tomorrow morning."

"Well, on this occasion I won't argue with you boss." came Miles' gruff voice. Chandler couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle at that.

Not five minutes later the incident room was empty except for two figures, The team had been to happy about being released early, that they had failed to notice that their youngest member hadn't followed them out, and was still sitting at his desk, looking up shyly at Chandler.

They both knew that Chandler hadn't let everyone go early because he had felt like being nice, the predatory look in his eyes clearly told Kent that.

The truth was, all day he'd been counting down the minutes until himself and Kent were left alone. Last week, during a skirmish with a suspect, Kent's favourite waistcoat had been ripped, so much so that it was only fit for the bin. The next day, as a treat, Joe had taken Kent shopping for a new one. He'd brought him to the best fitting shop he knew and the young man was poked, prodded and measured for a new, specially made waistcoat.

Even Kent had to admit that it surpassed even his old one. The fabric was strong, yet soft to the touch, easily washable and didn't require much ironing. The charcoal grey contrasted nicely with the dark hue of his hair and would fit in with his other grey trousers and jackets.

But the best part about the waistcoat (but only Joe seemed to notice this) was the fit. It hugged every line of Emerson's upper body. It accentuated the almost feminine waist, and showed just how flat the young man's stomach was. The material caressed every shape, under the arm, around the neck, and moved with Emerson like a second skin, clinging without pinching. All in all, It was worth every penny. But it did make the day seem a lot longer for Chandler, who had to watch the young man walking up and down the office, with his white shirt sleeves rolled up, the waistcoat showing off every contour of his lean body.

It had been a frustrating day.

But now that everyone had gone home, Joe was free to let his lustful expression show.

In seconds he had crossed the incident room to stand in front of Kent, looking down heatedly at the young man. Without hesitation he threaded his fingers through the tight curls on the back of Emerson's head and forcefully pulled him into a standing position, slamming their lips together so hard that both men let out a small hiss of discomfort.

Emerson immediately, and enthusiastically returned the kiss, having been just as worked up as Chandler all day. He hadn't been able to figure out what it had been that had made Joe behave the way he had been, but he'd been feeling the heated stares all bloody day, every time he got up from his desk, every time he bent over the filing cabinet, every time he took a sip from his mug of tea, he felt those intense blue eyes following his every move. At one point when the young man had ventured into the separated office at the end of the incident room to drop off a report, he'd been sure after the look Chandler had given him that the DI wanted nothing more than to bend him across the desk, and wouldn't have cared if the whole office was looking.

Kent had to admit, he liked this feeling, having someone so usually composed and proper practically salivating at his every move. It made him feel desired and attractive, something that he wasn't used to.

The two men battled for dominance over the kiss, pushing hard against each other, the pressure of their lips bruising and unforgiving, while their hands clutched and grabbed every available surface. Chandler hands were especially concentrated on Kent's chest, his fingers tightly gripping the smooth material of the waistcoat, before letting it go just as quick and instead running his fingers along it softly.

When they broke away, their breath ragged, their lips swollen and red, Chandler gently tilted Kent's chin up with his finger tips and began to kiss the defined jaw line and thudding pulse point beneath. "You have no idea how hard it's been to control myself all day." He smiled against the pale throat, as Emerson swallowed nervously at his words, the muscles in his throat moving against the side of Chandler's face.

"What's the matter with you today? You're eyes haven't left me once." Emerson whispered, his breath ghosting over Joe's face.

Kent felt rather than heard the chuckle that Joe gave at that, the rumbling through his chest and vibration of his throat.

"I think this waistcoat was a very lucrative purchase." Kent smiled widely, suddenly understanding. "I wish you could see what I do, then you'd know exactly why I've been so worked up today."

Unable to take the low, rough tone of the DI's voice caressing the shell of his ear any more, Emerson reunited their lips, immediately drawing Joe's bottom lip into his mouth and sucking lightly, before giving it a small nip with his teeth. Hands slid down Kent's back, over the fine material, and down lower to his hips, pulling them closer. Encouraged, the younger man threw both arms around Joe's neck, enthusiastically pressing upwards, still enjoying the fact that Joe was taller than he was. It felt nice to have to lean up to kiss him.

"Home?" Came the breathless question from Emerson's lips, his tongue flicking out from between the swollen flesh to wet them.

The smile that slowly appeared on Joe's face was answer enough.

* * *

Before the door had even shut properly the two men were clutching and grasping at each other's clothes, Kent's slender fingers immediately moving to slide the other man's jacket off, while toeing off his own shoes.

Quickly Joe backed Emerson up towards the bedroom, the two men letting out a few titters of laughter as they tripped up slightly over their own feet in their attempt to not break their kiss. After the second time this happened, Kent regretfully broke the kiss.

"You are keen aren't you?"

Chandler's only reply was to stoop down slightly and grab the young man's backside, hoisting him up, so that he could be carried, much more quickly into the bedroom. Kent let out a very unmanly giggle at being lifted, while wriggling slightly in protest at being manhandled so. Joe was stronger than the smaller man in his arms, so the lifting was not difficult, and if it got them to the bedroom quicker then they were both for it.

It wasn't long before the DC was dumped, almost roughly on the double bed. As he lent back against the luxurious sheets he watched as Joe pushed off his shoes and socks, before undoing the buttons of his shirts slowly, one by one. With each button, more tanned skin was revealed, Kent's pupils getting more and more dilated with every one.

Once the shirt was flung onto the chair in the corner of the room Kent shuffled to the end of the bed until his face was inches away from Chandler's stomach. He licked his lips again and lent forward, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses against the warm, toned flesh, while his hands quickly undid the other man's black belt and his smart trousers, allowing them to fall to the floor in a pool around his feet.

Kent looked up at Chandler from under his lashes, then looked down with a tiny smile at the bulge in the DI'S underwear, before gripping Joe's hips and pulling him forward, allowing him to gently mouth the fabric covering Chandler's modesty. He heard The DI's breath hitch at the contact and felt his fingers slide into his curls, not pushing down, but just massaging the area encouragingly.

After a minute Chandler worked up enough strength to gently tug on the young man's hair, prompting him to lift his head and look up questioningly at Joe, his eyes wide, and his lips red.

Beautiful.

"I don't want that…" Kent frowned, a look of almost hurt taking up residence on his face. Quickly Chandler explained, his hand stroking tenderly down the side of Emerson's face. "I want more than that. I want you." He pushed the young man down to lay on the bed with one hand on his chest. Leaning over the young man Chandler quickly undid the semi-expensive trousers he was wearing and slipped them down the lightly muscled legs, taking the young man's dark blue underwear with it, running his finger nails across the flesh, the dark hairs tickling his fingertips.

"Joe…off, now!" Kent breathed, tugging at the elasticated waistband of the other man's underwear. He wanted Joe to be naked, and quickly got his wish.

Kent took a moment to look in awe at Joe's gorgeous body, all tanned and toned skin, and most importantly, all his. After a moment he reached for the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt, them being the only two pieces of clothing the young DC was still wearing.

Joe's hand quickly clasped over his own fumbling fingers, his mouth twisted in a mischievous smile. One that wasn't usually seen gracing Chandler's usually serious expressions. He shook his head.

"Leave it on. You look gorgeous."

Kent blushed and lowered his eyes, looking at Joe's bicep.

"Oh, Emerson." Chandler breathed, his hands cupping the pale face and reuniting their lips. Their bodies were pressed tightly together from chest to knees, Chandler's weight pinning the smaller man to the bed. Their hips soon aligned and they began to move together, the rhythm instinctive and hardwired into their subconscious. Kent buried his face into Joe's neck, occasionally kissing the damp flesh, revelling in the shudders that wracked through the other man's body.

It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours, neither man was aware, before Joe reached out to the bedside cabinet, grabbing the small wooden box that sat there. Opening it, he took out the small blue tube of lubricant and a condom (from the perfectly aligned and tidy piles of condoms in the box)

Preparation was quick, but thorough, Chandler using plenty of lube on his fingers, gently opening Emerson up. Preparing his body for the intrusion that was about to come. The last thing in the world Chandler wanted to do was hurt Kent. He made sure to let his fingers brush Emerson's prostate every few seconds, the intense pleasure it caused helping the young man to relax and let Joe in. Plus, every time it was stimulated Kent arched off of the bed, his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hanging open, a strangled moan escaping his lips.

"Turn over…"

With a breathless whimper as Joe removed his fingers, Kent sat up slowly and turned so that he was on his hands and knees, facing away from Chandler.

He shuddered when he heard the sound of the condom wrapper being ripped open, then of it being put on. Kent waited, his heart pounding in his chest for Chandler to touch him. However he was left wanting and released a frustrated noise as the other man didn't seem to move the act along. Slowly Chandler leaned over Emerson's back, one hand gripping his hip and the other taking the DI's weight.

"You have no idea how amazing you look like this. You can wear this more often." Chandler whispered running his hand down Kent's back and along the fine material of the waistcoat. Seemingly by accident (though Kent had his suspicions that it was intentional) as Chandler manoeuvred himself behind Emerson his fingers fluttered against the bottom of the white shirt he was still wearing and his palm brushed the younger man's erection, smiling at the surprised gasp and involuntary jerk the smaller detective gave, before he pushed backwards into Joe in an unmistakeable hint.

Joe couldn't contain himself any longer, he lined himself up behind Emerson, gripping the slim hips tightly then plunged in, both men crying out or groaning at the sensation. Quickly Joe began to move, his fingernails digging into Kent's soft flesh, while the young man just tried to keep himself held up on his shaking arms, his fingers bunching the sheets and his toes curling.

Chandler looked down at Kent's back, the waistcoat pinching in his waist and clinging to every curve, giving way to his white shirt, then further down still to the milky white hue of his backside, the young man open and begging for Joe with his body. Such a filthy image. The mere sight almost tipped Joe over the edge, so he closed his eyes and changed the angle of his thrust so that he hit Kent's prostate every time. The effect was immediate, strangled cries almost too high pitched to be coming from a man were released, accompanied with the rhythmic clenching of muscles around his erection.

This wasn't going to last long.

"Oh, Joe! Oh God, Please don't stop!" Emerson sobbed loudly into the room, the only other sounds being the slap of flesh on flesh and heavy breathing of the two men.

Chandler bent forward so that his chest was covering Emerson's back and harshly gripped the wild dark curls in his fingers, pulling the young man's head backwards so that he could lock their eyes for a few precious seconds. He then sank his teeth into fleshy the junction of neck and shoulder, before releasing the dark curls, running his hand down the fine waistcoat and reaching for the young man's erection, stroking in time with his almost erratic thrusts. The cry that Emerson gave as he came finally pushed Joe over the edge, the DI giving on last deep thrust as his orgasm swept over him.

The two men collapsed on the bed on top of each other, uncaring of the mess they made, their only goal to catch their breath and cool down.

Slowly, after a minute Joe withdrew from Emerson's tired body and removed the condom, quickly running to the bathroom to wrap it in a tissue before binning it. On return he climbed onto the bed, and spooned up behind the exhausted young man, who had undone and pulled off the waistcoat and shirt, leaving him gloriously naked.

"The waistcoat is stained." Came a sleepy voice. Chandler pulled him closer.

"Good thing it's worth the money and is machine washable, then."

Kent chuckled. "That would be a hard stain to explain down at the dry cleaners."

Chandler smiled intro Emerson's bare back, before gently kissing the pale flesh and pulling the covers over them both. That waistcoat had defiantly been worth the money and a lot, lot more!


End file.
